Some men don’t recognize the many perks of being a dad.
My husband, though, gets to spend half his day hanging out with our boys while I work, so he understands them quite well. He knows that kids will always prefer their mamas (at least when they’re young), but he has the opportunity to be a few things in their lives, too.
Namely:
1. A human jungle gym.
My husband likes to spread out on the floor and read books aloud or silently during our evening reading times. Every single time he does it, my boys climb on top of him. There are elbows and knees and chins everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
When he’s standing still, they’ll wrap their arms and legs around his feet and shins and “ride” to the dinner table. At bedtime they’ll fight about who gets to climb on his back for the horse ride to their room. When he comes home from work they’re already barreling toward him.
Not too long ago, when I fell down our stairs and broke my foot, my husband carried me out to the car so we could go get it X-rayed. He injured his back in the process (you have to bend your knees, honey. I’m heavier than I look. You know, all that baby…muscle.)
When he saw the doctor about his back, the doctor told him it should be treated like any other injury. He should rest it. That night he stretched out on the floor to read a story (as if daring the powers that be), and one of the 3-year-olds did a cannonball onto his back.
Good luck with the resting, dear. That back pain just might be around forever. Small price to pay, though. At least you still have your bladder function.
2. The yes man.
My kids go to their daddy when they want a yes.
“May I use the scissors to cut this paper into tiny little pieces you’ll never be able to clean up?” they ask. (Not really. They only ask for the scissors. But a mom always knows what that means.)
“Yes, as long as you clean it up,” he says.
Yeah, right.
Our twins have bladders the size of walnuts. We remind them to go potty before we sit down to dinner, because if there’s one thing I hate (there are more, I promise), it’s interrupting dinner with a bathroom break. And yet, inevitably, after they’ve used the potty and have been strapped in their booster seats for all of three bites, this is what happens:
Twin 1: I need to go potty.
Me: You just did.
Twin 1: I need to go again.
Twin 2: Yeah. Me too.
Me: Of course you do.
After this annoying exchange, I’ll usually say something like “I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until after dinner,” because the time it takes my boys to inhale their food is only about 16 minutes, if we’re lucky. If we’re really lucky and we’re having pizza, it’s about 17 minutes, because they just keep inhaling until it’s gone.
And then the twin will say, “I not talking to you. I talking to Daddy.”
Because, apparently, they’ve caught on to the fact that he doesn’t really pay attention to conversations like the one above.
(This is changing. My husband’s response now is “What did Mama say?” No more yes man, twins. Sorry you don’t get to go potty three minutes after you already went.)
3. The I-don’t-care man.
My husband takes things in so much better stride than I do.
“I used all the computer paper,” the 8-year-old says. “But look at all these airplanes I made.” (One hundred of them.)
“Wow,” my husband says. “That’s a lot of airplanes.”
Where I might have said: “Well, you’re going to buy us a new package of computer paper, because I need that paper to print the second draft of my book in a couple of months.”
I will cry over spilled milk and gripe about dinners wasted and stress about the lost library book, because we just paid for a lost book last week, and we can’t keep doing this. But my husband just lets it roll right off. It’s a little maddening. And also refreshing.
4. The Rule Relaxer.
Once a month I get together with a group of ladies to discuss life and work and the book we’re supposed to read that month (but don’t always get around to). This is Daddy’s time to shine.
When I come home from these book club nights, at least two of my boys are passed out in the library, where they’ve been reading since he “put them to bed,” one is still working on a picture book in his bedroom with the light on, and two others are sleeping nearly on top of each other in a massive pile of blankets, trying to get closest to the sliver of light streaming through their door.
On the mornings he watches them they know they’ll get blueberry muffins with real sugar instead of honey or pancakes with extra butter or a lunch that doesn’t have any vegetables. It’s like a surprise vacation for them.
5. The Life Speaker.
Dads have this amazing ability to be a life-speaker in the worlds of their children. My husband does this well.
When the 3-year-old stood up in his chair for the six billionth time during the same five-minute stretch of dinner and I wished, for the six billionth time, that I had my voice recorded so all I had to do was press a button to hear, “Sit down on your bottom,” he executed an epic fall, his legs and head facing straight up and his body caving toward the floor in the perfect pilates butterfly (if a little crooked).
My first thought, on seeing him, was, “If you had been sitting in your chair like I told you, that wouldn’t have happened.” But the only thing my husband did was comfort him about how much it hurt to fall out of a chair he was standing in. And then he brought the lesson home.
A much better way to discipline, I think.
When Daddy is on duty, my boys get to watch more television, eat popcorn for lunch and change their clothes as many times as they want. I used to hate all these seemingly huge inconsistencies until I remembered how fortunate they are to have a loving dad in their life.
So many kids don’t.
My boys will never be the same because of their daddy. Their lives are richer for his presence and care.
I’m so very thankful he recognized the perks of being a dad.
